Being the mother of a toddler (and other musings)
And I thought being a new mother was tough!! I'm finding out that being the mother of a newborn is nothing compared to being the mother of a toddler. Every day presents itself as another opportunity for my daredevil daughter to risk her life in new and creative ways. I think my heart has stopped several times in the past few weeks: once when I saw her standing in our pond, once when I saw her standing on our glass picnic table outside, once when I saw her standing atop our steep and rickety pool deck about to dive into our pool, once as she got out the front gate and ran towards the road, once when I saw her climbing the stove and reaching for a steak knife, once when she ran out the front door of a store towards a major highway....and none of these times was either myself or my husband more than 10 feet away from her!! And thank goodness for that, or she would have been toast a long time ago. It seems like I can't even blink anymore, because in that second she could be leaping to a new challenge. And now I have to take her with me to the bathroom (or wherever I go) for fear of what danger she might get into in the minute or two I might be gone.
And though I haven't raised a teenager, I remember being one myself (vaguely) and there is something very adolescent about a toddler. They can go from happy to tantrum in less than 2 seconds, experience several diverse emotions in a short period of time, flip out over the slightest thing, and insist that their demands must be met RIGHT NOW, OR ELSE! Not to mention that they don't like what you try to dress them in, nothing you give them seems to hold their attention or make them happy, they try to go home with strangers or grandma (who would of course be a better parent than you!), they don't want to go to bed at bedtime, and they don't behave well in public.
Speaking of which, what happened to the baby who loved to go to the mall? And for car rides? Now I must choose between leaving the house or retaining my sanity. Example number 1, the Blockbuster episode. Unable to hold my squirming and kicking toddler, I set her down and she runs through the store like a lunatic, grabbing movies and flinging them everywhere. If I go one way to catch her, she runs the other. So the chase goes throughout the store until I give up. I let her run amuk and try to get my mission accomplished quickly. But my chest is clenching up because I'm so worried about her being kidnapped or something. Meanwhile I hear the whispers (or are they just in my head) of people saying, "Where is her mother?" "Who's watching her?" Finally I can't take it and go to get her, only to find her lying on her back under a display eating a huge container of milk duds she had stolen. I had to drag her out by her legs--again kicking and screaming, but now with chocolately froth spit oozing and flinging out of her mouth. Of course there were people standing right there, looking at me as if I was the worst mother ever. Then, being the honest person I am, I had to come up with $2 to buy the damn candy that you know I was never going to give back to her!!!!! Of course, an even huger tantrum commenced once I pried the box of milk duds out of her hands. While trying to pay for them. And hold the wiggling baby. Now imagine if we had stayed in Blockbuster for more than 5 minutes...
Another great kicker: I'm the one who feeds her, bathes her, buys her every toy at the store and then some, holds her when she gets hurt, and changed my world to revolve around her--and yet who does she want to be with? Her grandmother! She will always pick her grandmother over me. Why? I give her good snacks. The best toys, and lots of them. I let her get dirty, run around in just a diaper, and all those crazy things. I let her watch TV and eat junk food more than she should. I make special meals just for her.
I just don't know... But then I can't hold it against her, because I did the same thing. My grandmother took care of me from the time I was a few weeks old until I was in high school. I got off the bus at her house, and when my parents came to pick me up at night I never wanted to go with them. Mammy's house was the best place to be. Why? She did make me the best snacks, or any meal I wanted. She had great toys. She let me watch "Divorce Court" and soap operas. I loved the swing in the back yard, and the huge hill to run or sled down. But I think what is most distinct is that she never yelled at me. Nothing I could do was wrong. Made a mess? No big deal, we'll just clean it up. I made this meal for you and you don't want to eat it? Well, that's okay, we'll save it for later and maybe you'll be hungry then. You broke that toy I just got for you? Well, it was made cheap anyway and Mammy can buy you a new one.
So is it because grandparents don't yell or discipline? I've seen my parents yell at my daughter. And she laughs at them, the same as she laughs at us when we try to discipline her.
I also try to follow this attitude of "it's no big deal" with my daughter. I try to be laid back and "cool." But she still prefers her grandmother. My mother says it is sweet revenge, for all those times I rejected her in favor of my grandmother.
And what changes so much in a woman from when she is a mother, until she becomes a grandmother? Because all those things my daughter might prefer in her grandmother were not things my mother did as a mother (bringing her fries from McDonald's, taking her to the toy asile every time they go to the store, singing while driving, etc.) . Or traits she had as a mother ("don't worry about it"). There seems to be a major "relaxation" of sorts as time goes on, a more easy-going attitude. But maybe this is just my story, and not true or applicable for anyone else.
In summary, think of those rough first 6 weeks as merely a basic training course for what's up ahead around 13-18 months. It gets a lot worse! You'll still be sleep deprived, but now you can't even nod off (or blink). You'll still be getting up at night (for different reasons) and changing poopy diapers (as well as cleaning pee up off the floor when she refuses to go in her potty or runs off naked after her bath). You'll have a toddler who can whine and make simple demands--"Mommy NOW!"--as well as cry bloody murder. You'll be trying to get stains out of your clothes instead of hers. And she'll be able to undress herself, climb, run away, be purposefully defiant, steal and wreck things, phone a foreign country (when she gets ahold of the phone), tell gradma you beat her, torture the dog...(need I go on?)
And though I haven't raised a teenager, I remember being one myself (vaguely) and there is something very adolescent about a toddler. They can go from happy to tantrum in less than 2 seconds, experience several diverse emotions in a short period of time, flip out over the slightest thing, and insist that their demands must be met RIGHT NOW, OR ELSE! Not to mention that they don't like what you try to dress them in, nothing you give them seems to hold their attention or make them happy, they try to go home with strangers or grandma (who would of course be a better parent than you!), they don't want to go to bed at bedtime, and they don't behave well in public.
Speaking of which, what happened to the baby who loved to go to the mall? And for car rides? Now I must choose between leaving the house or retaining my sanity. Example number 1, the Blockbuster episode. Unable to hold my squirming and kicking toddler, I set her down and she runs through the store like a lunatic, grabbing movies and flinging them everywhere. If I go one way to catch her, she runs the other. So the chase goes throughout the store until I give up. I let her run amuk and try to get my mission accomplished quickly. But my chest is clenching up because I'm so worried about her being kidnapped or something. Meanwhile I hear the whispers (or are they just in my head) of people saying, "Where is her mother?" "Who's watching her?" Finally I can't take it and go to get her, only to find her lying on her back under a display eating a huge container of milk duds she had stolen. I had to drag her out by her legs--again kicking and screaming, but now with chocolately froth spit oozing and flinging out of her mouth. Of course there were people standing right there, looking at me as if I was the worst mother ever. Then, being the honest person I am, I had to come up with $2 to buy the damn candy that you know I was never going to give back to her!!!!! Of course, an even huger tantrum commenced once I pried the box of milk duds out of her hands. While trying to pay for them. And hold the wiggling baby. Now imagine if we had stayed in Blockbuster for more than 5 minutes...
Another great kicker: I'm the one who feeds her, bathes her, buys her every toy at the store and then some, holds her when she gets hurt, and changed my world to revolve around her--and yet who does she want to be with? Her grandmother! She will always pick her grandmother over me. Why? I give her good snacks. The best toys, and lots of them. I let her get dirty, run around in just a diaper, and all those crazy things. I let her watch TV and eat junk food more than she should. I make special meals just for her.
I just don't know... But then I can't hold it against her, because I did the same thing. My grandmother took care of me from the time I was a few weeks old until I was in high school. I got off the bus at her house, and when my parents came to pick me up at night I never wanted to go with them. Mammy's house was the best place to be. Why? She did make me the best snacks, or any meal I wanted. She had great toys. She let me watch "Divorce Court" and soap operas. I loved the swing in the back yard, and the huge hill to run or sled down. But I think what is most distinct is that she never yelled at me. Nothing I could do was wrong. Made a mess? No big deal, we'll just clean it up. I made this meal for you and you don't want to eat it? Well, that's okay, we'll save it for later and maybe you'll be hungry then. You broke that toy I just got for you? Well, it was made cheap anyway and Mammy can buy you a new one.
So is it because grandparents don't yell or discipline? I've seen my parents yell at my daughter. And she laughs at them, the same as she laughs at us when we try to discipline her.
I also try to follow this attitude of "it's no big deal" with my daughter. I try to be laid back and "cool." But she still prefers her grandmother. My mother says it is sweet revenge, for all those times I rejected her in favor of my grandmother.
And what changes so much in a woman from when she is a mother, until she becomes a grandmother? Because all those things my daughter might prefer in her grandmother were not things my mother did as a mother (bringing her fries from McDonald's, taking her to the toy asile every time they go to the store, singing while driving, etc.) . Or traits she had as a mother ("don't worry about it"). There seems to be a major "relaxation" of sorts as time goes on, a more easy-going attitude. But maybe this is just my story, and not true or applicable for anyone else.
In summary, think of those rough first 6 weeks as merely a basic training course for what's up ahead around 13-18 months. It gets a lot worse! You'll still be sleep deprived, but now you can't even nod off (or blink). You'll still be getting up at night (for different reasons) and changing poopy diapers (as well as cleaning pee up off the floor when she refuses to go in her potty or runs off naked after her bath). You'll have a toddler who can whine and make simple demands--"Mommy NOW!"--as well as cry bloody murder. You'll be trying to get stains out of your clothes instead of hers. And she'll be able to undress herself, climb, run away, be purposefully defiant, steal and wreck things, phone a foreign country (when she gets ahold of the phone), tell gradma you beat her, torture the dog...(need I go on?)
posted by The Stein Family | 11:50 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home